Thaw
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Nothing unites two people like freaky magic storms, over-enthusiastic innkeepers and a sauna. AU where Belle goes to Arendelle after rescuing Philip and things do NOT go according to plan. Written for Tumblr's Rumbelle Secret Santa 2014.


Belle bundled up as best as she could as she trudged through the snow, struggling to see a few feet in front of her. The snowstorm had caught her by surprise a good half hour after leaving the palace, not really paying much attention to the tell-tale warnings in the sky. Arendelle was colder than she remembered but, then again, a lot of things were different from what she had pictured in her mind. She had gone back to tie up a loose end, emboldened by her success with the demon-turned-prince Philip, and help Anna. As much as she wanted to return to the Dark Castle and knock some sense into her sadly-stubborn true love she knew she owed the Arendelle princess far too much. She had thought it would take a while to find out what the Snow Queen had done to her and plan a rescue mission- it had seemed nearly impossible at a time, and she had found herself almost calling Rumplestiltskin more than once- but, in the end, she had snuck into the palace only to find Anna safe and sound, planning her wedding.

It was a... bizarre encounter. Anna seemed friendly but distant, a more subdued version of herself. There was something incredibly off about her that bothered Belle as soon as the initial onslaught of sheer relief that her friend was safe and sound subsided. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what about Anna's behaviour seemed strange or unnatural and she really didn't know the other woman very well- but she couldn't shake the feeling off.

Anna had informed Belle that the Snow Queen was no longer a problem, having banished some time ago. When asked if she was happy she replied that of course she was. She was planning her wedding and seeing to the safety and happiness of her people. When Belle asked after her sister Anna's smile turned disturbing.

"She's in a safe place."

Though Anna had been polite Belle had understood that her presence wasn't exactly welcome, nor were her questions. With nothing other than vague suspicions to worry her Belle could do nothing but wish Anna the best at her wedding and leave the palace as soon as possible, trying to shake off the feeling of failure that settled over her. When it had started to snow she hadn't worried much, but soon a mere flurry had turned into a veritable blizzard, her heavy clothing getting soaked and the snow rising all around her, making each step a struggle.

After a few hours trudging through the snow it became clear that she wouldn't last much longer out there. Belle wasn't by any means a pampered noblewoman, she had lived through an Ogre War, a time where every person needed to pull their weight, a stint as a maid- the Dark Castle had required a lot of gruelling work at first, before the floors mysteriously stopped getting dirty and the laundry started doing itself- and a brief time as an adventurer. She was no strange to hardship but she was definitely not used to such low temperature, her body finding it increasingly difficult to move.

She was close to starting to panic when she saw, through the blur of falling snow in front of her, a plume of smoke rising in the air. She followed it till she all but smacked head-first into a door, which she hastily opened and then struggled to close against the wind. When she finally did and could look around she noticed immediately the interior looked dreadfully familiar.

"Yoo-Hoo!"

The strangest sense of Deja-vu invaded her before she managed to shake enough of the snow off herself to turn around. She recognized the man in the knitted sweater with the peaceful, borderline-disturbing expression right away. Not exactly someone easy to forget.

"You look familiar, ja? Here for the big summer blowout?"

Outside the wind howled and the entire trading post seemed to shake with the force of the snowstorm raging outside. Big summer blowout indeed.

"Err, not exactly. I- I got caught in the storm and I need a room. Could you help me?"

As it turned out there were, shockingly, many rooms available. Oaken led her to one of the most spacious ones, with a hearth and a soft, plush bed. And though both those things looked incredibly inviting to her she could still barely move, every inch of her seemingly frozen.

"You don't look very well. Have you tried the sauna? Half price for friend of Anna's, I remember."

For the first time since she'd known him the suggestion seemed pertinent. And though the innkeeper's enthusiasm for his sauna was still a wee bit disturbing it beat frostbite in Belle's mind. Leaving her rather sparse belongings in the room- taking the time to rummage with her numb fingers through her rucksack for a cloth towel, unwilling to put on anything dear Oaken offered or go nude- she let herself be guided towards the sauna. Thankfully it was connected to the main building but isolated enough that when the innkeeper told her he had to go back to his post in case he missed any important customers- he seemed to believe people would brave the weather for a chance to take advantage of his ridiculous low prices on summer items- she didn't feel uneasy at all. The changing room was blessedly warm from the heat coming off the sauna itself so Belle didn't have to struggle much to shed her clothing, even sodden and heavy as it was.

The steam curling in the air was a blessing for Belle. She took a deep breath, feeling her skin tingle from the sudden assault of warmth. She couldn't see much of the room, most of it foggy, but a few tentative steps, and a near encounter with the stones at the centre, led her to a wooden bench were she all but collapsed, the heat and the tiredness from the journey hitting her at once. For a long time she just laid back and let her mind wonder and her body relax, casting away all thoughts about Anna or the idea that something might be wrong.

She was almost dozing off when she heard it. At first she thought she might have imagined it, still a bit paranoid about Oaken and his sauna-fixation, when she heard it again. It was something between a whimper and a sniffle, some sort of involuntary, human sound that let her know, without a doubt, that she wasn't alone in the room.

She had never been.

Looking around for a weapon proved to be useless, so Belle settled for trying to make it out of the sauna without disturbing the other person in the room. It was easier said than done, however, taking into account she could barely see anything at all. She ended up stumbling into another bench, and freezing when the sounds of quiet breathing reached her ears. She strained her eyes trying to capture a glimpse of the other person, slowly perceiving the outline of a body not much larger than hers, thin, sinewy and... Scaly?

"Rumplestiltskin."

Thankfully her startled whisper didn't wake him, but he did shift around, making unintelligible grunting noises before falling back to sleep. After the initial shock wore off Belle studied her former master carefully. Thankfully, for her maiden modesty if nothing else, he was wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, but the rest of his greenish-gold skin was bared to her eyes. She'd seen men in such a state of undress before, wounded soldiers in need of medical attention and someone to clean them at times, but she'd never felt anything but pity for those poor men. Her present situation felt utterly, completely different. She'd often guiltily fantasized about what her master would look like bared, beneath the leather and the flamboyance. Curiously she leaned closer, watching his thin, lean torso inflate and deflate with each breath he took, the scales covered by a sheen of sweat. She then swept her gaze upwards, to his neck, a part of him she was rather familiar with. Though sometimes he favoured cravats Rumplestiltskin usually preferred open shirts with low necklines. Belle had always found that part of his anatomy to be fascinating, wondering if the scales there were as smooth as they looked.

Feeling a bit guilty she let her eyes wonder downwards, taking in his shapely legs. She noticed that there was something odd about his right ankle, which looked a bit discoloured compared to the rest of his green-gold self. Curiosity getting the better of her she reached out and touched the area, gently probing to see if there was any swelling or scarring.

"Belle?"

The imp's voice sounded muddled, sleepy, but it startled Belle as much as a shout would've. She quickly turned to stare at his face, panicking when she saw his eyes open and staring at her. At first he looked dazed, almost confused. One of his hands reached out to touch her hair where it hung close to his waist. When his fingers actually made contact with her hair he seemed even more puzzled than before. He tugged on the lock, causing her to yelp in surprise and in response his eyes rounded to comical proportions and he scrambled into a sitting position, pressing himself against the wall opposite to Belle to put as much distance between them as possible.

"Belle?!"

She'd never quite heard him sound so high-pitched before, and incredulous. He was looking at her like she was some sort of impossibility, like the whole situation didn't make any sense at all. Then his gaze slowly drifted from her flushed face to the rest of her- one of her hands belatedly rose to comb her hair in front of her shoulders to provide a smidgen more coverage to her naked upper body- and his eyes, if possible, got bigger as his jaw dropped.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

Belle would've been upset about his harsh tone if he hadn't been clutching the towel around his waist with maidenly modesty, as if he expected her to rip it out at any moment. Opting to, bravely, pretend there was nothing odd with the situation they found themselves in she explained to him her predicament, leaving out most of the details regarding Anna, the Snow Queen and her visit to the trolls to seek out the lost memories of her mother's death. When she mentioned the freak storm, though, Rumplestiltskin frowned, clearly agitated, and stormed out of the room, a cloud of smoke enveloping him as soon as he was out of the sauna to dress him up in his leathers and silks. She followed him out, acutely aware that her former master was doing what he did best in situations that involved any sort of intimacy or discomfort: running away.

With magic.

She needn't have worried about him magically poofing himself as far away from her as inhumanly possible because when she finally caught up with him, in the middle of Oaken's still-deserted shop, he was simply standing there, magic swirling around him but not actually doing anything that she could see. He seemed somewhat frustrated by it, as close to stomping his feet and throwing a tantrum as she'd ever seen him.

"Rumplestiltskin?"

Reluctantly he turned his attention to her, eyes briefly darting in her direction before quickly and resolutely moving away.

"Don't worry, dearie, I'll soon be out of your hair, I'm sure."

"Well, it doesn't seem to be working. Are... are you alright?"

In all the time Belle had lived in the Dark Castle not once had Rumplestiltskin's magic failed him. He used it like it was an extension of his person, something innate in him. And though she was very cross that he was trying to use it to flee her presence she was also very worried that it wasn't working.

"Yes, yes, it's the storm, it's not a- Oh, for crying out loud!" Here he paused to snap his fingers and, a moment later, Belle felt herself be enveloped in a warm-yet-ridiculously-stylish dress and fur-lined boots. "Ah, yes. The storm, as I was saying... isn't natural. There's magic afoot in it and it's blocking my ability to teleport out of this... charming establishment."

He glanced around the room like it was infested with rats and then stiffly turned to look at Belle. His whole posture spoke volumes of his dislike for the situation and it hurt in a way she would have thought she had grown immune to after he'd kicked her out.

"I... I'll be out of your way, dearie, for as long as the storm lasts. You won't have to give me a second thought."

He turned on his heel, ready to dismiss her and probably go lurk somewhere dark and suitably ominous when Belle stepped in his way, wondering if she was feeling angry, sad, hopeful or all of the above. All she knew was that she was still trying to process the idea that she was suddenly reunited with Rumplestiltskin, her true love, and he was already fleeing as far as he possibly could.

"Wait, just... wait. Stop running away and stay. Talk to me." She paused, looking at him with the barest hint of accusation in her eyes. "I deserve that, at least."

He took a step back, fingers rubbing together in that nervous gesture she easily recognized.

"You deserve everything." He used that low, human-sounding tone that she'd heard only a handful of times before, moments she remembered vividly. "But, alas, getting out of your way is the best I can offer right now. I have no more claims on your time, dearie, so I won't impose myself upon you more than necessary."

He whirled around once more, attempting to depart in a way that was both quick and didn't make it look like he was escaping from his small, non-magical former maid.

Belle rather thought he failed.

The trading post wasn't particularly large, but the rooms were serviceable, all equipped with a small fireplace and tons of blankets on the bed, and the common areas were... cosy. The place clearly wasn't meant to be an inn except when necessity merited, and Belle was grateful for Oaken's hospitable efforts. He had a modest collection of books- and thank the heavens that Belle had thought it important to teach herself various languages- and enough provisions to last them for a long time. He was also the worst cook she had ever met. He came up with the strangest food combinations, ranging from the unpalatable to the downright nauseating, and over-seasoned everything for good measure. Some of the dishes were so bad Belle found herself looking out to the snowstorm raging and wondering whether it'd be best for her to take her chances with it rather than with Oaken's dinner special.

That, however, was the least of her problems. During the first couple of days Belle stayed mostly in her room, trying to process her situation. On the one hand returning to Rumplestiltskin and forcing a confrontation had been her plan from the beginning of her excursion into Arendelle, but nothing had quite gone like she thought it would. Anna's strangeness still irked her, making her feel like she'd failed her again but not quite knowing what to do about it. She detested feeling helpless, which she imagined was one of the reasons why she had so eagerly accepted Rumplestiltskin's deal so long ago.

The mention of her former master and current-and-forever true love brought her to her second problem: though she had been planning to reunite with him she hadn't quite accounted for a scenario where they were forced together on unfamiliar territory. She'd imagined she'd go back to the Dark Castle, where Rumplestiltskin would attempt to throw her out, she would stand her ground, he'd go off "on a deal" and then come back only to try and avoid her. The Dark Castle was big keep him from feeling caged and cornered but small enough to make it easy to be in his presence a large amount of time. Eventually he'd have to capitulate and consent to have that long talk she desperately wished for.

Now all her carefully-laid plans were ruined, and she needed to regroup. Oaken's inn was small, and not being able to teleport was bound to make Rumplestiltskin cranky and panicky, defensive and prickly. She rather hoped Oaken had enough sense to give him a wide berth. It all meant, of course, that she'd have to coax her coveted talk out of him slowly, carefully, treating him like one would a wounded animal in the wild.

With a new plan she finally ventured out of her room, determined to find something useful to do to occupy herself with while she waited Rumplestiltskin out, allowed him to come to terms with the situation, get over his initial anger at being stuck somewhere he didn't want to be. As she ventured into the main living area she caught sight of Oaken hanging something from a rafter, precariously perched on a ladder.

"Ah, you're finally out, miss, how joyous! A little help, please?"

She rushed to make sure the ladder didn't topple over like it was threatening too, Oaken blissfully unaware as he asked her to pass him another garland. It took a few seconds for her mind to connect the dots.

"Is it Yuletide, by any chance?"

She had read about the Northern celebration in many of her books but had never experienced the celebration first hand. Her mother had, once when she'd gone to Arendelle with her father to negotiate a trade agreement, and she'd told Belle how wonderful it was, how joyous and enthralling.

"Ja, ja. Magical time, miss, full of cheer and wonder. I follow every tradition, like all the men in my family before me. Whole town comes to celebrate here, they do, but not with such bad weather. I thought I was going to be lonely at Yuletide, ja? But no, the gods provide me with wonderful guests for the season!"

Belle marvelled at Oaken's brazen ignorance of Rumplestiltskin's true nature. She knew for a fact tales of the Dark One and his... unpleasant nature had reached Arendelle, but even without connecting the dots Rumplestiltskin clearly looked like the sort of guest no one would ever wish for.

As if thinking about him had the power to conjure him Rumplestiltskin himself appeared, dressed more practically in furs and wool. His scales had acquired a rather pale, greyish tone that Belle had never seen before and the layers of clothing he's piled on top of himself made him look like a child playing dress-up in his father's clothes, and everything about it struck Belle as... odd. She could never recall Rumplestiltskin being particularly bothered by the cold, though once upon a time she had theorized that, like all scaled creatures, he was likely cold blooded and, thus, ill-equipped for low temperatures.

Oaken's effusive greeting distracted Belle from her musings, the noblewoman flinching when the innkeeper loudly addressed the imp. Fearing that a snail wouldn't survive the cold of the freak storm she quickly sought to get her former master's attention. The gentle touch on his arm, however, almost sent him stumbling back. He'd always been skittish about touch, though never that bad. She tried, bravely, not to see it for the rejection it was and, instead, focus on her concern for him.

"Are you alright? You seem... strange. Out of sorts."

For a moment, she could tell, he planned on artfully dodging the question, fingers flicking in a familiar manner that preceded his wild gesturing, usually meant to distract and unsettle. She raised her eyebrow at him, a subtle reminder that she knew him enough not to be fooled by his usual tricks.

"If you... must know, I am not naturally equipped to handle the cold very well. Magic has always made it a moot point, except that this particular cold is of a magical nature that I find myself... unable to block it out. Quite vexing, really."

He could act as flippant and careless as he could but it meant nothing when he was swaddled up in wool clothing and shivering like a drowned rat. Looking closely she was even sure his nose was turning red beneath the scaly grey-green. As nonchalant as possible, so he wouldn't be offended, she offered him a cup of tea she'd brewed. Her idea was to sit down with him and let him get used to her presence nearby before getting down to business and trying to cajole a serious, open conversation out of him.

Oaken, however, seemed to have a different idea of how things would go.

"There are so many things to do, Miss Belle, we must rush, ja?"

A second later he was shoving a box of seasonal decorations in her hands and shepherding her to another room, cheerfully inviting his other guest to join them and seeming not to hear the resolute "Not unless human entrails are a Yuletide decoration!" the Dark One barked back, trying to look majestic as he curled up near the fire, trying to sip tea while his hands shook.

In spite of Rumple's rather grim disposition, and perhaps partly to distract herself from the notion he was nearby, Belle found herself getting into the spirit of the season. Yule was a holiday full of quaint, fascinating practices, from special dishes that she readily volunteered to cook, stressing that it would allow Oaken to focus on other very important Yuletide business, to a myriad of traditions that ranged from the decoration of evergreen trees with clothing, food- Belle drew the line at stringing herrings on the poor branches of some unfortunate pine tree, runes and small statues of local deities. Oaken's rather large collection of decorations- "Proudly amassed by my family for generations, miss!"- meant a lot of trees were needed to accommodate them all. It was quite a laborious task, venturing out into the cold even for just a few minutes to cut and haul the logs inside. By the third tree Belle could not feel the tip of her nose or her feet, which made walking in a somewhat graceful manner near impossible.

"You're gonna freeze out here, dearie."

Rumplestiltskin's voice almost made her fall face-first into the snow, barely able to keep balance by holding onto the tree she was slowly hauling to the inn. Oaken was way ahead of her, walking through the blizzard like it was a mild autumn day.

"Just three more trees, I can do it."

He sighed beside her, clearly annoyed and with a flick of his wrist she was back inside the inn, three tall fir trees lines up beside her. He must have caught her surprised and grateful look because he shrugged, the movement barely noticeable beneath the layers of clothing.

"You were worried about me."

"That oaf can't cook."

"Of course."

Though he didn't volunteer at all to help decorate the trees Rumplestiltskin did linger beside the fire in the common are for a while before holing himself up in his room for the rest of the day. She tried to focus on the Yule celebration, drawing Rumple out every now and then with offers of warm tea or food. She was starting to feel genuinely sorry for his increasingly shoddy state, his nose getting redder as his scales acquired the slightest tint of pale blue. Oaken, however, didn't seem to notice his guest's malady and unapologetically shoved him into whatever tradition they were taking part in that day. Most of them, Belle suspected, weren't really Norse traditions but rather Oaken's family own brand of Yuletide lore.

"It's all foolishness, dearie. I'm rather surprised you took to it so readily."

He was partaking of the one holiday custom he seemed to agree with, eggnog. Cupful after cupful of eggnog, downing each one like it was water. Belle sipped at her own third serving, knowing that though she could hold her liquor like no other she was not, unlike some people, immune to alcohol poisoning.

It was a quiet night and the drink had put Oaken to sleep almost immediately after dinner. Belle had lingered in the living room with a book with a decanter full of the holiday drink and somehow that and the roaring fire had been too much for her skittish imp to resist. He was looking a bit worse for wear, his nose red and his scales paler than before, with a slight blue tint in places.

"Well, I figure this counts as experiencing a bit of the world. Doing things instead of reading about them, you know? Sometimes I feel I've experienced the world through the pages of a book, muted and colourless."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a thoughtful, soft look on his face.

"Strange little maid, with strange little dreams."

Belle knew him enough to detect the affection hidden behind the false air of disapproval. The drink was making him a wee bit careless, if not intoxicated, and she felt bad for wanting to exploit such weakness.

"I'm not that strange, surely." When she bumped her shoulder against his she felt him shift a little bit closer and willed her heart not to betray her. "Besides, celebrations are always fun. What are you being such a sourpuss over it?"

He feigned indignation at her insult, though his mad little giggle gave him away.

"No one ever talks to me the way you do..." Something shifted in his voice then, and the air around them grew heavy and charged. "Not since Bae."

She froze in her spot, sensing the significance of the confession. It was a conversation he owed her, but one she never thought he'd actually have with her. She decided not to prompt him for more, wishing for him to say as much as he wanted.

"He was such an honest lad... so good, so brave. So much better than his papa. I miss him every day but more so during a celebration. He always liked festivals and holidays. Even when we had nothing and I couldn't give him everything he deserved."

He was hunched over and tilted slightly to the side, leaning on her, whether because she radiated warmth or comfort she couldn't tell. A moment later he stiffened, scrambling up and away as fast as she'd ever seen him move. He mumbled a short, tight "Goodnight" and stumbled out of the room almost tripping on the threadbare rug and pitching head-first into the fireplace.

The next morning felt even colder than the night before, if it were at all possible. Oaken didn't seem to mind the chill in the least but Belle had a much harder time of it, requiring three cups of hot tea in her to feel the least bit warm. She spent the better part of the first waking ours baking, so pleased to be near the hearth that she didn't notice at first how late the hour grew with no sign of her former master stopping by for breakfast.

It was when she didn't see him for lunch that she finally noticed and fear grew in the pit of her stomach, combined with a hint of anger. Clearly last night's sharing had been too much for him and now he was unwilling to face her, wanting to shut her out and regain some of the safe space he considered vital for his well-being. With him it always seemed to be one step forward and two steps back and Belle was getting tired of chasing after the elusive promise of him.

Letting anger win over for a while, fuelling her, she marched towards his closed bedroom door, determined to ferret him out and force him to deal with her and the unspoken issue between them once and for all. She'd be brave for the both of them if need be. She knocked on his door loudly, wincing when her cold fingers hit the wood but resolutely did it again when she received no answer.

And again.

And again.

"Rumplestiltskin, come out! I need to talk to you. Now."

She was afraid that if she let time past she'd lose momentum, second-guess herself, so she stay put even when she received no answer and continued pounding on the door till a raspy, croaking "Go away, dearie!" reached her ears, letting her know she wasn't simply pawing at the door of an empty room.

"You either come out or you let me in, Rumple. I'm done waiting, I'm done... standing in the middle of a precipice, waiting for something to happen. I... I deserve better. I deserve answers."

She didn't exactly expect him to answer, but was nonetheless infuriated when her heartfelt plea fell on seemingly deaf ears. Needing to do something, however fruitless, she tracked down Oaken and cajoled the key to Rumple's room out of him with surprising ease. She thought it would prove to be useless, counting on him having magicked the door close too, but to her surprise she was able to access the room with no problems. Inside it was freezing cold, what should have been a roaring fire in the hearth reduced to dying embers. Belle's eyes focused immediately on the bed, where she spotted a lump beneath a pile of what had to be every single piece of cloth in the room sans the curtains.

"... Rumple?"

Deflated, her anger chased out by a gnawing worry growing in the pit of her stomach, Belle first went out to search for a light and then return to approach the bed. When she was near enough she spotted the all-too-familiar mop of uncombed curls of her master, but the rest of him was hidden away.

"Let me look, Rumple."

Slowly, gently, she pulled back the top of the blankets and peered inside. Her former master looked a wreck, his scales a strange colour between pale grey and blue, dark bags under his eyes and a haggard appearance. He was cold to the touch, curled up in a ball and looking strangely small and frail without his leathers and brocades, clad instead from head to toe in cotton and wool.

"You're freezing." She pressed her warm hand against his cheek, forehead and even neck but he didn't react with the outraged little squeak she expected at having his modesty violated. In fact he didn't react at all. "Rumple, can you hear me? Rumple!"

She placed the lamp on the bedside table so she could shake him hard, sighing in relief when he finally stirred, though all he did was curled up on himself more. Reassured about the man's obvious immortality, the brunette quickly sprang into action, ducking out of the room only to return a few minutes later with an armful of logs and kindling. Her stint as a maid had made her proficient in the fine art of fire-starting, most of the time completely on purpose, so it was a matter of moments before the room began to warm up, however slowly. Next she went to the kitchen to heat some bricks, wrapping them nice and tight before carrying them back to her master's room.

It was a testament to her worry that she didn't even contemplate the idea of becoming embarrassed when she practically shoved herself on the bed to place the bricks underneath the piles of blankets, making sure his feet and legs were kept nice and warm. He seemed to wake up a bit then, or at least regain consciousness. Though he clearly looked like he needed sleep it also seemed he wasn't about to get it anytime soon so instead Belle made him some tea, noticing that he made no move to shoo her away, a true testament to his weakened state.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"We're on the eye of the storm. It'll get a bit worse, perhaps, but then it'll pass. Besides, I'm immortal, dearie, the sniffles are very unlikely to do me in."

His playful grumpiness put her at ease somewhat, but there was no denying that, safe from death or not, Rumplestiltskin was not taking the cold very well. She stayed with him for the rest of the day, bringing food whenever appropriate and reading to him when he'd lapse into silence, knowing he was shaking too much to actually be sleeping. At times he tried to play the overbearing Grinch, unpleasant and prickly like he did at the beginning of their relationship, where he was still dead-set on showing her just how incredibly evil he was and why she should totally fear him. That hadn't quite worked out then and it wasn't now.

Still she let him spin his words, figuring it was better than to have him worry about her worrying about him. Rumplestiltskin didn't handle affectionate attention well, he was suspicious of it and completely clueless as to how to respond to it as well. For a few days it seemed to work, and though he told her to go away from time to time he never seemed to mind when she simply rolled her eyes and shoved a bowl of soup or a cup of tea into his hands in return.

During the fifth night of the new arrangement something woke Belle up. A tree branch scraping against her window, which almost scared her half to death before she realized what it was. The temperature had dropped even more sometime during the night and though a part of Belle wanted to curl up and go back to sleep the other part was wondering how Rumplestiltskin was doing. It took half an hour of tossing and turning before she finally gave up, wrapped herself up in a larger-than-life shawl and silently made her way to the imp's room, easing the door open as quietly as possible. Immediately she noticed the entire bed seemed to be shaking so badly was her former master's shivering. She had noticed before that though she seemed to be helping him stave off the cold during the day his eyes were always bloodshot and he seemed beyond exhausted. If he wasn't the Dark One Belle was pretty sure he'd be dead by now.

Though he was awake he was barely coherent and nowhere near lucid, too exhausted for his mind to work clearly but too cold to achieve anything resembling sleep. He looked, strangely, small and frail, like a wounded pup or a drowned kitten and if Belle hadn't been worried out of her mind she'd have found it completely adorable. She thought briefly of getting him hot bricks and more tea but they were both temporary measures and not nearly enough with how much the temperature had dropped. Not knowing what to do she sat on the chair she'd placed beside his bed, reaching out to touch his freezing hands. He reacted with more speed that she thought him capable of, snatching her hands and pressing them against his face.

"Warm, so warm..."

He sighed blissfully, pulling on her arms more so he could get as much exposure to her own body heat as possible. It seemed to help, his shivering lessening to a certain extent. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about it before but she'd always dismissed it as something he'd not be comfortable with. But that was a moot point at this stage, she guessed, and so she carefully climbed onto the bed before she could think better of it, burrowing under the covers and pressing herself against Rumplestiltskin. He let out adorable whimpering sounds as he moulded himself against her, grunting happily once he settled. He had his face pressed up against the curve of her neck so she busied herself with petting his hair, trying not to hyperventilate. It was the closest she'd ever been to a man, and he wasn't just any man, or a man she found attractive. He was her true love, and the idea of calming down when he was all but wrapped around her seemed ludicrous.

After some time he stopped shivering altogether and Belle felt him grow slack against her, finally asleep. She, on the other hand, remained wide awake for the rest of the night, running her hands up and down her love's back and crooning nonsense to him whenever a particularly vicious gust of wind outside made enough racket to threaten to pull him from his sleep.

She snuck out of the bed sometime around nine in the morning, making sure to tend to the fire and check that the drapes were pulled tight to keep the room as heated as possible. Her former master woke up a few hours later, looking less like death but making it clear- Belle thought it kinda sweet that he seemed to be more worried over her than him- that things would get drastically worse before they got better.

"In a day or two we'll get the worst of it before the curse is dispelled. You should bundle up some more, dearie."

Personally Belle couldn't see how she could fit another layer of anything on her but, truth be told, she didn't feel the need to. Though it was indeed very cold it didn't get so bad for her during the day and secretly cuddling up with her master in the wee hours, though it rather robbed her of body heat rather than add to it, kept her content at night.

But when she saw the tell-tale signs of severe frostbite on Rumplestiltskin's nose and ears she realized that not even her palliative efforts would work for the last hours of the spell as it viciously ravaged Arendelle. When she took her pulse she noticed how slow and faint it was, clearly only his magic sustaining his life now, and it wouldn't do. He might not be able to die but he was clearly in a lot of pain.

She worried over it as she prepared tea, trying to come up with a solution. If the Dark One was right, and he always was, that smug bastard, it'd all be over soon, so what she needed was to find some temporary measure that'd bring comfort, if nothing else.

"Great time for a sauna, ja?"

Oaken's smile was completely guileless and Belle was admiring his strong business ethic to be so focused on making a sale in the midst of such a fierce snowstorm when what he'd said sunk in.

The sauna. Of course.

"You're brilliant, Oaken! Come help me."

It was a chore to drag Rumplestiltskin away from his cosy nest of blankets and hot bricks and haul him all the way to the sauna. There Oaken, ever-so-unfazed by the imp's incoherent threats of "snailing him" shoed Belle away to the female changing room, telling her he'd "get your friend ready for the sauna, ja?". Praying Rumple would remain in his semi-catatonic state Belle stripped with trembling fingers, donning a fluffy robe instead of a towel, for modesty's sake. When she entered the sauna steam was beginning to curl up from the hissing wet stones, barely obscuring her vision. Her former master was curled up on a ball on a nearby bench, his bare feet peeking out of his robe, which seemed to drown him. She crept close, her maidenly embarrassment fading in light of the gravity of the situation. She sat down next to him and, like a magnet, Rumplestiltskin immediately moved close to her, laying his head on her lap, seeking her warmth.

As she petted her hair and the air grew uncomfortably warm she was happy to see some actual colour return to his cheeks, the frostbite receding now that his magic could focus on healing him instead of keeping him alive. He uncurled after a while, wiggling on the wooden seat to try and get comfortable. His robe had a rather plunging neckline, mostly due to its disproportionate size, and her attention focused, however unwillingly, on his chest. With slow, careful movements she touched the scales there, noticing they had already grown warm and the least bit slick with sweat. He had sparse hair, soft and pleasing to the touch and after a while she began to notice that he seemed to be... purring. In a way.

Well, that was a surprise.

Emboldened by that sign of approval Belle kept exploring, her fingers running up and down his throat, her touch feathery but sure. The purring grew louder, making her giggle. Rumplestiltskin was much more agreeable when he was unconscious, it seemed. She sat there, basking in a new sort of intimacy for her, one that didn't require words at all.

"Why do I keep waking up to you accosting me in the sauna?"

Rumplestiltskin's voice startled her out of her inner musings. She didn't stop touching him, though, unwilling to give up their newfound understanding.

"The temperature dropped too much you were getting frostbite. Oaken suggested the sauna. Do you feel alright?"

Her hand delved into his hair, pushing it away from his face and he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to better appreciate the caress. After a while he seemed to come to his sense and take stock of his limbs, surprise flashing across his face.

"Everything feels warm and toasty. That's a welcomed change." He turned to stare at a fixed point on the wall to his left. "Thanks for this, by the way."

She tried to get him to look at her again, but he refused to make eye-contact. Belle could practically feel him retreat inwardly and begin putting his walls back up, trying to shut her out. Again.

"Oh, no, you don't."

She got up from the bench so fast the sorcerer's head almost smacked against it rather painfully. He yelped, suddenly outraged and ready to throw a tantrum when his former maid whirled around, climbed on top of the bench and unceremoniously sat down on him, legs tucked on the sides of his hips but most of her weight rested on his stomach.

"These past few weeks you've attempted to ignore me, acted like a grouch in an attempt to keep me at bay and ran away at the first sing of closeness. I, on the other hand, have fed you, nursed you and kept you warm. And I've done it all happily because I love you and I can't bear to see you suffer but that doesn't mean you get to discard me now. I deserve... I want..." To her surprise and shame Belle started crying, not the silent tears that where becoming on women but fat, ugly sobs that were only worsened by the steam and the humidity of the room. Once she started she couldn't seem to stop, all the anxiousness she'd accumulated over the past few weeks crashing down on her at once. Beneath her Rumplestiltskin grew tense and panicky, apparently at odds regarding how to deal with her in such a state. He half got-up, his arms hovering awkwardly at her sides for a beat before he took the plunge and wrapped her up in a hug so tight she could feel the tips of his claws dig lightly into her skin in spite of the thick fabric separating them.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't cry, sweet Belle. Brave Belle." He rocked her back and forth, clumsily but earnestly, and a few minutes later her sobbing became embarrassing little hiccups and sniffles and then halted altogether.

"I know it's not fair. I don't pretend to understand why you've chosen a monster to love, Belle, but I don't deny to myself that you do. But I'm not good enough for you, sweetheart. You deserve the world and adventures and someone who'll make you the centre of their world and I cannot give you that. There's something I'm working on that requires my undivided attention and full use of my powers so as much as I want to kiss you right now I can't. And what relationship could I offer you without even the possibility of a kiss?"

She smiled at him, sadly and hopeful at once and though her eyes were bloodshot and her face splotchy she was a sight to behold for him.

"This is about your son, isn't it?" His shocked look seemed to serve as confirmation. "I put two and two together. The way I figured you lost him and now you're trying to get him back and I wouldn't dream of standing between you two." She blushed, her expression turning coy as she bit her lip and lowered her eyes. "But, the way I figure it, yours sounds like an amazing adventure and... and there are other things to do besides kissing. Or so I've read."

Her words, on any given day, would've had blood rushing south faster than he could rip someone's heart out, but with Belle on his lap, both of them sweaty from the steam of the sauna and the close contact, most of his blood already had found its way to his straining cock, and his self-control was on the verge of snapping.

"You mustn't say such things when you're in the clutches of a beast, Belle."

He was unsure whether he was flirting or warning her off but, completely against his wishes, his arms tightened around her, his fingers skimming across her hip to seek out the knot that kept her robe snuggly closed. The brunette placed her hands on his shoulders and absent-mindedly began toying with his hair.

"I don't see a beast. I see a man." Her fingernails began tracing patterns on his name, making it almost impossible to concentrate. "A man I love." she paused again, slipping her hands under the collar of his robe, a daring move. "A man I want. So now the question is... does that man want me?"

She was an irresistible mixture of brazen and shy, bold and inexperienced. And he found himself loving her even more for taking such a risk, a leap of faith.

"He does. All the time. Quite maddening, really." His gruff playfulness was soon replace by stifling tension as he very, very slowly, untied the sash from around her waist and parted her robe open. He didn't dare stare at anything other than her face till she gave a little nod and his gaze swept lower, taking in every bit of sweat-sleeked skin he could and coming to rest on the nest of curls between her legs.

"So beautiful, so innocent..." He seemed dazed, like he was caught in a dream. Belle felt quite the same and attributed at least some of it to the heady atmosphere of the sauna. She shivered as she felt the tips of his nails caress the skin of her stomach and sides, parting the robe wide open. She shrugged it off before she'd lose momentum, trying to even out her breathing so he wouldn't see how afraid she was, even though she wanted what was happening.

She stifled a surprised little squeak when he bent forward and skimmed his nose across the side of her neck, scenting her. A moment later his nose was replaced with his tongue and he methodically began to lap at her throat, careful to catch every bead of sweat running down into her chest. She tilted her head up and tightened her hands on his hair in response, sighing when one of his large hands cupped one of her breasts, at first content to touch but then applying pressure to it, testing its plush softness. She moaned then, a sound she never before remembered making, and pressed closer to him, trailing her hands down his chest to look for the knot that kept him covered up. He tensed for a second before relaxing, allowing her to open the robe and slide it down his arms and off him, having to lift herself a bit in order to do so. They were, quite suddenly, very naked and even though they were desperately inhaling lungfuls of air the lack of oxygen in the room made it difficult to breathe, creating heightened sensitivity at the same time.

Both their core temperature had risen considerably and from books Belle knew this meant an increase in blood flow, which would account for the increased feeling in her extremities. Every ghost touch, every brush of the pads of his fingers against her skin seemed to produce an electric response in her, making her feel just a bit shy of being overwhelmed. He didn't look like he was faring any better, skin flushed and scales prickly, the feel of them softened by the sheen of sweat covering them.

"Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart..." He sounded almost pained, whispering brokenly close to her ear before dipping his head low and nipping at her shoulder, clamping his mouth down near the beginning of her neck to suckle on the spot, his nails raking a cross her upper thighs and leaving vivid red trails of raised skin in their wake.

"What... what do I do, Rumple?"

She'd read about it, of course, but between the heat and the stimulus Belle could barely remember her name. He prompted her wordlessly to uncurl her legs and lift herself off him so he could reposition himself with his back pressed against the wall directly behind. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, still sitting down, and coaxed her to do the same, Belle barely managing to get the front sole of her tiny feet to touch the sturdy wooden planks. His erection was almost painfully pressed between them and he wiggled around, trying to find a position that didn't make him feel like he was about to come any second now. To distract himself he returned his mouth to his little Belle, grabbing her by the waist and bending her back as he took one of her nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue across it and delighting in the way she dragged her nails down his sides in response. His scales were sturdier than human skin but his perspiration made them weaker than usual and the heat enhanced their response to stimuli, making him thank the Gods his magic was so depleted it couldn't very well spiral out of control.

"I'm so... empty. I want to feel full, please."

The innocence of her request was almost enough to undo him. He was aware Belle knew about the... process behind sex, but didn't find it necessary to play coy and hide what she wanted or how she wanted it. He thought briefly he should use his hand first and his mouth second before even dreaming of doing anything else with her but he was too keyed-up to accomplish any of that. He called up a wisp of magic from the very depths of him, taking the possibility of pain off the table before he took his cock in hand and slowly, cautiously, slipped it inside her. She was gloriously wet, thankfully, and loose, the heat and foreplay serving him well and though at first she seemed to find the... intrusion inside her more uncomfortable than anything she was soon trying to experiment, wriggling around like a curious cat.

"Up and down sweetheart. Find an angle you like."

He patted himself in the back for sounded coherent and grunted rather like a beast when she followed his advice, clumsily at first before finding her footing and some sort of rhythm. It was slow and sweet at the beginning, halting in the way firsts are and though he thought he'd die before orgasming he was deliriously happy. Soon enough, though, Belle went from curious and methodical to needy and frantic, tugging on his hair like it was a horse's mane as she rode him hard, pressing every bit of herself against him as she chased her pleasure and he tried desperately to stave off his. They met somewhere in the middle, the feeling of her orgasm making him stop fighting his own. It was sweaty and messy, painful as the wooden planks of the bench dug into his sore ass and utterly, utterly perfect.

She collapsed boneless against him when it was over, pressing her lips to the side of his neck, the tip of his nose and, finally, the centre of his forehead. He closed his eyes, feeling the kiss like a blessing.

"Has the storm passed?"

She snuggled close to him, perhaps a bit shy and wanting to cover herself a bit. He nuzzled against her right cheek, letting his magic reach out and find the answer. He nodded after a while, and though Belle expected him to make a move to break their pleasant cuddling he didn't do so. Instead he sighed, a sound full of contentment.

"Happy Yuletide, Belle."

"Happy Yuletide, Rumple."


End file.
